


Doppelgangers in a Coffee Shop

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Unspeakably Complicated Circumstances [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Twilight
Genre: Crossover (dodges flying rotten fruit), M/M, OOC of crossover character; utterly un-beta'd cringe (sorry, rotaryphones!)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 01:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6218230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doppelgangers meet at a coffee shop.  Pre-Epilogue of Unspeakably Complicated Circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doppelgangers in a Coffee Shop

The bells above the door jangled, and Cedric paused in his wiping down of the counter to look up and flash a smile at a potential customer on this very slow, very grey day. His smile died before it could form, and his hand twitched for his wand.

The boy standing in the doorway looked like him - or as he had looked when he was seventeen. Not that Cedric had ever looked so stylish in muggle clothes or looked so completely unruffled by the imminently inclement weather.

The boy stared right back at him, frozen in place, and Cedric's fingers curled over the smooth ash of his wand. Unease whispered through his blood. Though this boy looked younger than Cedric, he was dangerous, unspeakably so. Cedric smiled at his own grim humor and met the boy's gaze squarely.

It wasn't polyjuice. Perhaps a glamor? The other boy's hair had a redder tint, but the real difference was his _eyes_. They were the color of liquid amber.

A dozen different curses and hexes warred for dominance in Cedric's mind, his every instinct screaming for him to fight - and then flee. But he pushed it aside. "Good morning, and welcome to Lamplight Coffee. How may I help you?"

"I'm just looking around," the other boy said, and though his gaze was wary his tone was polite. He had an American accent. Cedric wondered if he would sound like that if he faked an American accent.

"If you need anything, let me know, then." Cedric inclined his head politely, slipped his wand into his sleeve, and then continued wiping down the counter with broad, sweeping strokes. He was starkly aware of the other boy's presence as he meandered over to the bookshelves; judging by the tension in the other boy's frame, he wasn't ignoring Cedric either.

Cedric took a deep breath, and then he tried them - wordless counter-stealth spells, designed to reverse the effects of Polyjuice or even the strongest glamours. The other boy jumped slightly, as if sensing the spells as they hit him, and he scrutinized Cedric in return.

And Cedric felt, in reply, a caress - against his _mind_. A sensation he hadn't known since his occlumency training with Vadette. His eyes narrowed. Who was this boy? Could he read minds? He was something different from a muggle, but not a wizard; Cedric could see both of the boy's hands, and he had no wand.

They locked gazes, and for a moment there was a silent battle of wills as curiosity and the instinct for danger clashed between them. Then the other boy's scrutiny shifted, and Cedric was aware of the boy studying his face, probably seeking differences. For now they would let this rest, then.

What, precisely, did one say when faced with a stranger who might have been a clone?

"My name is Edward," the other boy said. He crossed the café to the counter and extended one hand, meeting Cedric's gaze boldly the entire way.

"Cedric," he said, and shook Edward's hand. It was ice cold, and Edward snatched his hand back abruptly. Cedric knew that expression on Edward's face - it was self-castigation, as if he'd done something he wasn't supposed to.

"Are you new here in Cedarville?" Cedric asked. "I haven't seen you around before."

That earned a laugh. "No, and I'm sure you would have noticed. I'm just -- passing through." The laughter faded, and Cedric saw familiar, haunted shadows in those eyes. After a moment, Edward smoothed his face of emotion and feigned politeness instead. "You sound like you're a visitor yourself."

Manners. Two could play at this game. Cedric knew he was playing, and he knew the rules, but he wasn't sure he knew what the stakes were. "An immigrant, more like."

"What brought you here from England?"

"Something akin to retirement, or perhaps a chance to start a new life." Cedric turned and began absently restocking coffee cups. The morning rush-hour had been brief but voluminous. This lull caused by the weather was more than appreciated.

"A new life," Edward mused. "I wish I could do the same."

Cedric glanced over his shoulder. Edward was back by the bookcases, studying the titles under the section haphazardly titled "philosophy."

"It's not easy," Cedric said. "But sometimes, I suppose, it's necessary."

"You're not here by choice?" Edward picked up a volume of Descartes, flipped through the pages. His hands were longer, more elegant than Cedric's, perhaps belonging to an artist or musician. Cedric had inherited his father's large, strong hands, the hands of a laborer or fighter.

"When I said 'retirement,' I meant it in a 'permanently exiled' sort of way," Cedric said. It hurt to admit that, to know that he was dead to the Unspeakables now as well. Vadette had given him a means by which to escape, but he could never go home again. Never see his parents, never see his friends.

Never see Harry.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

"I see," Edward said in a polite tone that said that he rather didn't see but had been well-raised enough not to ask.

Cedric finished restocking the foam cups and gave the coffee pots a stir so as not to let the dregs sit too much. "It's just - I left everyone behind, everyone I love. And it's a little lonely."

Edward's smooth, courteous mask fractured a bit; pain darkened those bright, golden eyes. "You left behind a lover? Voluntarily? Will she be joining you?"

Cedric straightened little packets of chai in the rack of tea. "Yes, voluntarily. And no, no one from home is joining me."

Edward's eyes flashed. "How can you do that - be away from her?" Again with that haunting pain in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around himself, and he looked almost - fragile. Almost. Cedric still sensed an undercurrent in Edward that told him the boy was dangerous. "How can she be away from you?"

"The one I love thinks I am dead," Cedric said, and his words were more clipped and harsh than he intended. He spun away from Edward with the pretext of fluffing the coffee filters. It was stupid to think about it so often. By now the wizarding world was starting to rebuild, starting to remake itself into something better, something unafraid, something alive.

And Harry had probably found himself just such a life, with someone alive. Cedric wouldn't mind if it was with Ginny - she seemed just as strong-spirited and intelligent as Harry needed. That Harry would eventually forget about him hurt. Harry would never forget his first love, but that's all Cedric would ever be to him: a memory.

"I'm sorry." Edward's voice - slightly deeper than Cedric's - was soft, almost too soft to hear. "I - it hurts. I left her voluntarily - it's not safe for her while I'm there. But it hurts so much, because I know she's hurting without me."

Composure restored, Cedric was ready to face his almost-doppelgänger. He turned and saw Edward still huddled in on himself, staring out the window and into the empty, grey street.

"I _hurt_ her! I had to, to keep her alive. But I just walked away, ripped myself out of her life. She's back home, missing me and loving me, but I don't deserve her." His voice was full of raw pain.

Whether Edward was talking to Cedric or merely aloud to himself, Cedric didn't know, but he did have an idea. "You want a drink? I could use a drink. Preferably a stiff one."

Edward shook his head, and when he laughed, the sound was like nails and broken glass. "No thank you. I don't drink. Alcohol, that is." And then he laughed more, as if he was the only one in on some horribly morbid joke. "How will you go on, alone here, knowing that you'll never see your love again?"

"I'll take each day as it comes," Cedric said, "and hope that maybe, someday in the future, I'll have a chance to see him across a crowded room, glimpse his smile, and know that he's happy."

Edward blinked at 'him,' but he didn't comment on it. The pain in his expression softened as he considered Cedric's words, and then he said, "You're stronger than I am, I think. To be able to do that."

Cedric lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Perhaps. You'd be surprised at what a man can do, to allow himself to survive."

"Surviving isn't living," Edward said.

"I never said it was." Cedric balled up his damp wash rag and turned, cocking his fist back for a threw. He flicked his wrist, then listened as the rag made a satisfying thump in the sink at the back.

"Nice throw," Edward said.

Cedric allowed himself a ghost of a smile. "Thank you." He reached under the counter to straighten rows of pastries. "Will you be staying in Cedarville for long?"

"I can't. If I stay in one place, someone from home will track me down. I have to get as far away from her as possible, draw the danger away." Edward shoved his hands into his pockets, and his shoulders tensed even more. He was as an agitated tiger pacing the confines of its cage.

"I wish you the best of luck in keeping her safe, then," Cedric said.

"Thank you." Edward started for the door. Then he paused. "Does your being here keep _him_ safe, wherever he is?"

"No, I already kept him safe. This is my reward."

Shadows darkened Edward's eyes again, this time in sympathy. "Then I'm very sorry."

"I'm not. He's alive and has a chance to be happy." Cedric smiled, the sweet, crooked smile he'd inherited from his mother. "Farewell, Edward."

"Farewell, Cedric." Edward stepped out of the café and into the grey street where it had begun to drizzle.

Cedric watched him go and hoped that, whether or not he was able to return to the one he loved, he would be all right. Then he turned to fix himself a cup of black coffee. As an afterthought, he added a shot of Bailey's. Outside the sky was getting worse, and it was going to be another long, lonely day.


End file.
